Unheroic
by aliveandnotawell
Summary: He has a boyfriend, decent grades, and a will to live, all three of which are difficult to keep in high school. Yet Alfred is facing a rough patch that may lead to a downward spiral, flushing all his hard work down the drain. In a desperate attempt to lose weight will he lose everything, or will he find the strength to overcome a relapse?
1. Chapter 1

Now, I know what some of you might be thinking. Why am I posting the first chapter to a new, multi-chapter story, when I already have one that I'm working on? The only answer I can give is I'm a writer and I have too many ideas constantly going on to only focus on _one_ of them. If I had the skill to do one project at a time, that would be rather useful.

Since I was twelve I've struggled with an unhealthy relationship with both food and my body, and I'm using a lot of experiences with what happened to me to reflect what happened to Alfred in this. I'm still not doing well healthwise, as I mentioned in my author's notes on my other story _Not All Villains Wear Capes_ , and I just went and got some blood drawn. And sadly, I found out that I am anemic. I'm still not processing that information well because, like Alfred, I never thought that what I did to myself and my body would cause harm. I thought that I was invincible to it. This is just proof that I'm not and I've been struggling a lot lately because of it.

Writing about this subject is a good way for me to cope, and much better than me resorting to my more negative coping mechanisms. So, while I work on my other story, I will also write this one.

I love you all! And I appreciate favorites and follows to my stories or to me as an author, but I also **really** love hearing feedback. Send me a PM or leave a review, if you would like. Again, I really appreciate it!

* * *

Alfred always thought of himself as a hero, an invincible force that could be reckoned with, abused, beaten down, and terrorized, but never fully destroyed. He thought that nothing he did would affect him, no one could hurt him.

When he was younger, Alfred told people he wanted to be an astronaut, a marine, a doctor, a professional wrestler, never able to choose one goal. Indecisive and confused he never accepted the idea of settling down and turning a job into a career. Then, as he grew up, his answers started to change. His personality started to change.

No longer hoping to become a wealthy, world-renowned scuba diver or a Revolutionary War reenactor, his goals changed. In honesty, he didn't care what grueling tasks he would have to go through to get paid and stay afloat in a society focused purely on the thickness of your wallet.

As long as Alfred was able to make people happy he would do anything.

Yes, Alfred knew that his own happiness should be taken into consideration, but he couldn't remember the last time he was able to stay with the emotion. Happiness to him didn't connect with pleasant memories or daydreams, but instead the smiles on other's faces and the joy in their voices.

Of course there were things that he did that did not make those around him happy. His weakness, his addiction, his only coping mechanism, was the only thing able to truly break Alfred. He just hadn't realized it before.

What caused Alfred to start restricting and skipping meals was now a mystery. It seemed that his demographics and how he was raised may have lined him up for an unhealthy relationship with food, but perhaps it was something different, a mutation in his DNA that he was born with, only making itself known at the ripe and ready age of twelve.

At first it was small. No more snacking, no more beverages with calories, cutting out "fattening" or "unhealthy" foods. Obsessively reading nutritional labels, going into the pantry every ten minutes just to look at the food before leaving empty-handed and repeating the cycle. Looking back it's hard to tell when that transitioned to not being able to pick up a six pound bowling ball and passing out in the bath late at night. His strength and his happiness withered away along with muscle, leaving bony wrists and bones protruding at painful levels.

On his fourteenth birthday Alfred was admitted into the mental health ward at his local hospital, later to be transferred into an inpatient eating disorder treatment center. Which was funny, to him at least, because the only presents he got for his birthday were a diagnosis of anorexia and a tube up his nose, shooting calories unwillingly into his fragile body.

Now, at sixteen, Alfred's life is going well. He has a boyfriend, decent grades, and a will to live, all three of which are difficult to keep in high school. And no, he doesn't restrict anymore, he's recovered and well and happy and healthy and _fake._

But on the days where he doesn't feel like he can persist and wants to give up there is always someone there willing to pick up the pieces of his shattered mind, putting them back together with crazy glue, the only fitting adhesive for the job. Sometimes it's his brother Matthew, who will take him on walks and cook with him. Or his boyfriend, Arthur, who always knows the wrong thing to say in a bad situation but will stay by Alfred's side and continue to ramble about the strangest things until he is calm. And, on few occasions, the strange Finnish nurse, who is required to eat lunch with him at school, will buy him diet cokes, and ensures that the lollipops he provides are only of the sugar-free variety. He even saves the labels so that Alfred can check.

There are good days, there are bad days, and there are days where Alfred is so unaware about his surroundings he doubts the credibility of even recognizing them as days at all. But Alfred is weight restored, eating regular meals, and not exercising excessively, so he's at least doing well enough that has treatment team has disconnected from him and moved on to the next mentally ill adolescent.

And now, with an exhausted Arthur asleep next to him on his couch, Alfred's phone begins to blast an upbeat ringtone across the living room. Moving quickly he hops up to get it, noticing Arthur stirring, but luckily not waking up. Phone in hand he does not recognize the number, but answers anyways.

"Hello?" He whispers into the receiver, hoping that if he keeps quiet that he won't disturb Arthur.

"Hello, is there an Alfred Jones present?" A quiet voice replies, seemingly female.

"Uh, yes, that's me." Mumbling, he starts to feel anxious, and finds difficulty in staying in one spot instead of pacing around the room.

The woman on the other line clears her throat and her voice seems more warm and welcoming when she says, "Good afternoon Mr. Jones, my name is Lilly, I'm the new receptionist for your pediatrician. I wanted to remind you that you have a physical next Friday, nine days from now, scheduled at 4 P.M. Are you still able to attend or do you need to reschedule?"

Alfred swallows, and for a brief moment he hesitates. He could reschedule, and then when it comes up reschedule again, and keep rescheduling until they give up on him. Going to the doctor was not exactly a fun experience for him or those around him, the days leading up to any sort of appointment are stressful and often difficult to get through.

"Yeah, I'll make it. Thank you for reminding me." He doesn't realize what he says until the words have already left his mouth.

"Alright, that's great! I'll see you next Friday Alfred, and I look forward to meeting you!" She seems radiant, and before he can respond, the line has been dropped.

Alfred lowers his phone from his ear and looks at the screen, not sure what he's feeling, or how to identify his thoughts.

"Hey, what was that all about?"

Startled, Alfred jumps, looking straight at the hazy-eyed - but very much awake - Brit. "Oh, uh, it was nothing, just some stupid doctor's appointment coming up."

Almost immediately Arthur tenses, making an unpleased face. Alfred notices and is quick to respond.

"It's nothing big though, you know, just the whole semiannual check out thing."

Nodding, Arthur is still frowning, but brushes the subject off. "How long was I asleep?"

Looking back at his phone screen, Alfred replies, "About two hours, I think. Sorry if I woke you up."

"No, no, it's okay!" Arthur shoots back, standing up and stretching. "It's still rather rude of me to fall asleep at someone else's house after being invited, I suppose I'm not a very good guest."

Alfred laughs and shakes his head. "I don't care, the peace and quiet was nice, and you're really cute when you sleep.

Arthur's face heats up and he sputters, "Do not call me cute!"

"Fine, fine." Alfred shrugs. "You're very hot when you sleep. Attractive. Sexy. _Dashing."_

A dusting of red began to spread across from Arthur's cheeks to his ears, and he baffles.

After another twenty minutes of playful flirting and bickering, Arthur has to go, and Alfred gives him a drawn out goodbye kiss. When he hears the car pull out of his parking lot he waits a few minutes, peaking through the blinds to ensure that he is, in fact, alone.

He slowly walks to his brother's bathroom, squats down to get into the cabinet under the sink, and pulls out a flat, shiny piece of metal. Taking the scale with him he exits cautiously and hides it in his closet.

Before that doctor's appointment Alfred needs to lose just a few pounds.


	2. Chapter 2

I'm not sure when I wound up posting this, but I actually wrote this chapter only a couple hours after the first. I've got a lot of ideas for this story so I'll continue to work on it for now. A friend of mine is reading over my next chapter of _Not All Villains Wear Capes_ because I really want to get suggestions on that, I have a couple ideas of where I could take the story, and each one would make the story be a different length, and lead to a completely different ending. Whoops!

I'll update this again as soon as possible as well. Hey, I might already have the third chapter written by the time that I actually post this.

* * *

There were few things that bothered Alfred. Sure, there were annoying noises, nails scratching along a chalkboard in a cartoon and classmates that tapped their pencil against the table to a nonexistent, nonrhythmic beat. But most thing that happened were just that, things that happened, and Alfred was able to move on in , out of everything, there was one thing which he - ironically - could not stand.

Wasting food.

He didn't like when other people threw away their half-finished sandwiches, he didn't like expired food being dumped in the garbage, he couldn't stand it. Already Alfred felt like he would not deserve what he had, food and all, and when he had to clean out the fridge it killed a part of him. In fact, this was one reason he had began preferring processed, shelf-stable food, pumped with preservatives to elongate shelf life and prevent rot. Fruits, vegetables, and otherwise fresh foods were always a sight for sore eyes when scavenging through Alfred's kitchen, unless they belonged to his older brother, because they had a tendency to go bad before being consumed.

The night before Alfred had been on his laptop, planning out his meals for the rest of the week on a calorie counter, fiddling with the concept of how little he could get away with eating, how much he should exercise, and of course, how much weight he could drop in nine days. It wasn't much time, and he wouldn't be sure of his current weight until the morning, but he would be able to make do.

Then, in the morning, he woke up before his alarm could set off, buzzing with anxiousness and a sick sense of anticipation. He grabbed the scale from its hiding spot in his closet and hugged it to his chest, like a child would to a blanket or a stuffed animal, carrying it with him carefully. When he shuffled down the hallway he noticed all the finite details around him, despite the darkness of the early morning, and when he finally reached the bathroom door he hesitated.

It had been two years since his hospitalization, one and a half since his release from the treatment center, and half a year since his treatment team trusted him enough to let him be. Was he doing the right thing? Well, it was only a couple pounds, like getting your hair trimmed, the difference would only be slight.

And if it was slight, why would it matter?

Yet he opened the door. Turning the light on he cautiously placed the scale onto the tiled flooring before leaving it, briefly, to use the toilet. Afterwards he stripped down, avoiding the mirror so that he didn't have to see the blobs of fat surely present along his body.

With one deep inhale, and a final glance to the ceiling, Alfred stepped forward onto the scale. It wasn't until his chest started to tickle that he realized that he was holding his breath. Looking down at the number, he wasn't sure how to feel.

60.4 kilograms.

Well shit, it was just like Matthew to have a scale that used the metric system, of all the horrible things it could be. He'd honestly rather be told how many quarters he would need to equal his exact weight.

He hopped off the scale and put his pajamas back on, grabbing the scale in his arms and heading back to his room. The number stuck in his head and when he had gone back and returned the scale to its previous hiding place he grabbed his phone from the bedside table, searching for a metric bmi calculator.

The last time he had his height measured was a month ago and he hadn't had any obvious growth since then. 177 cm.

Plugging the figures into the calculator, the result shocked him. A bmi of 19.3? Alfred sure didn't look it, though the calculator insisted that he was, indeed, on the lower end of the healthy weight spectrum.

He messed with the calculator more and found the number 57.5, the weight he needed to be right in the underweight category. Of course at the doctor's office they would weigh him with his clothes on, so he would have to wear lighter clothes, and take that into account. A solid goal of 57 kilograms would probably work out well.

Nine days, 3.4 kilograms. A little under a pound a day. Difficult, but doable.

Alfred's phone suddenly began to vibrate, and he realized that it was his alarm going off, announcing that it was 6 A.M. and time for him to get ready for school. And usually Matthew would come in, about ten minutes after, to actually wake Alfred up, but this morning Alfred was prepared.

He rummaged through his drawers, quickly grabbing a pair of baggy jeans and a navy blue t-shirt. Alfred preferred to wear loose clothing, he enjoyed the way it hung off of his frame, and the thoughts that he is at least not as big as he could be. In a way wearing looser clothes was a reassurance that he hadn't gained weight, but if he were having a day where he was bloated and feeling particularly insecure he could easily hide it.

Alfred changed into his outfit for the day, shoving his phone into his back pocket and grabbing his backpack, shoving the previous day's homework into the unruly mess of crumpled papers. He walked out his bedroom, kept walking for about three seconds, then turned back around and went to get his glasses that he had taken off while getting dressed.

Invincible or not, Alfred needed glasses still.

He hummed to himself, backpack in tow, while making his way to the kitchen. After completely bypassing the fridge and pantry doors he turned to the coffee pot, filled with the steamy beverage, and poured himself a mug.

"If you aren't going to question why there's coffee already made for you, which could be filled with poison, you could at least say good morning, no?"

Alfred jumped, spilling hot coffee along his chest and hands, hissing loudly and dropping the mug onto the ground. It smashed and began to cover the floor. "Fuck!"

Francis gasped, mouth hanging open. "Oh, I did not mean to scare you that much! Are you hurt?" He went to grab Alfred's hands, which were quickly turning red, but upon contact Alfred hissed again.

"Francis, is everything okay?" Matthew yelled, the sound of his shoes clacking against the wooden panels of their halls getting louder as he sped to the kitchen. When he reached the area his eyes immediately met the mess on the floor "Shit! I left you alone for three minutes and you broke my favorite mug!"

"Well, I mean-" Francis stuttered, before being interrupted by Matthew.

"Oh my god, Al, are you okay?" Matthew walked up to his brother, making a point to avoid the shards of ceramic along the floor, and bumped Francis out of the way with his shoulder. Francis gawked in return, but Matthew did not get to see the expression. "Did the mean, old, Frenchman hurt you?"

Alfred choked out a laugh, trying to ignore the throbbing of his burns, which were sure to leave rather confusing marks behind.

Francis put his hand on Matthew's shoulder and attempted to defend himself. "I did not mean to hurt him, I just wanted to make everyone a surprise breakfast."

Matthew's eyes narrowed slightly, and he sighed before letting them return to normal. "That was nice of you, Francis."

Slightly uncomfortable, Alfred's gaze flicked between the two. "Did he spend the night? Is this some sort of sex thing? I mean, as much as I would love to hear about you two doing the nasty, I kinda need a first aid kit, or some burn cream, or something, because this actually does hurt a little."

Francis nodded and dashed to the bathroom, leaving the two brothers in the kitchen alone. Matthew shook his head and let his shoulder slump. "We're going to be late, aren't we?"

Alfred laughed. "That's the advantage of having an older brother who teaches at your school, infinite excuses."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Matthew looked down at Alfred's hands and gave them a questionable look. "Are you going to be able to do anything today with those burns? I mean, how're you going to write, or hold your books, or eat?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Alfred responded, "I mean I have all but one of my classes with Arthur, I'll just have someone else write and hold my stuff for me."

Matthew didn't seem satisfied with the answer, and the portion of the question that went unanswered, but he dropped the subject just as Francis returned to the kitchen. "Hey hun?"

Francis, hearing the use of the pet name, perked up, in hopes that it meant that he was no longer in trouble. "Yes?"

"We're going to go, and you're going to clean up this mess. And when you get to the school and explain that you're late because you were busy inflicting an injury on a student, you might want to bring me flowers."

Sinking back down into himself, Francis muttered, "Oui, mon cher." Then he left the room once again to go and get the mop.

Smirking slightly, Matthew turned back to Alfred. "I'll treat the burns in the car, we don't have much time, and I don't want you to get a tardy. You go wait and I'll grab our lunches and get you a shirt to change into, okay?"

Alfred was alarmed, "You packed us lunches? I didn't know we were going to start doing that again."

Matthew shrugged and grabbed two lunchboxes from the refrigerator. "I thought it would be nice. Do you want anything for breakfast?" Alfred shook his head, watching as Matthew slipped a diet coke into his lunchbox. "I know you aren't supposed to have these on school campus, but eh."

Alfred smiled and headed to the car. Internally, he was panicking. Though the coffee incident gave him an excuse to skip breakfast, the mystery lunchbox was awaiting him, and he would likely eat all that was packed for him.

Matthew knew that Alfred just hated wasting food.

* * *

 _French used during the story:_

 _Oui - Yes_

 _Mon cher - My dear_


	3. Chapter 3

As I save this into the document manager, I realize that I haven't even put up the second chapter yet, which I have already written. After I save this I will post it, but I may go on a walk first. Who knows? Life is a mysterious thing.

I was feeling really unwell this morning but I'm doing much better now, so much so that I decided to write this chapter. Though I want to go to the grocery and buy a million Ultra Blue Monster drinks so that I can stay awake forever. Lately I've been feeling like sleep is way too overrated anyways. Does anyone else get that feeling? It's weird.

Anyways, just a reminder that I really, really appreciate everyone that has given my story a favorite or a follow, and those who have given me as an author a favorite or a follow! Thank you all so much! If you would also leave reviews it would be greatly appreciated, I love hearing feedback about my writing or suggestions! And if you have any questions, or just want to chat, feel free to send me a private message as well!

Cheers to all, and happy reading!

* * *

Hands treated and bandaged, Alfred carefully slipped the handle of his lunchbox onto his arm, watching the handle get caught on the black button-up shirt Matthew had grabbed him. "What did you pack? For lunch, I mean." Alfred asked, in an attempt to seem absent minded.

Matthew kept his gaze facing forward as he drove. "Just lunch stuff. I, uh, packed you a salad, I think. I don't remember what greens I used but I think it's just romaine, and there's some cucumber, tomatoes, mozzarella, and some sort of vinaigrette thing. It was prepackaged at the store so if you like it let me know and I can get you some. I know you don't like keeping much produce in the house but I still think you should be eating more vegetables, at least."

"Yeah, okay mom." Alfred groaned, looking down at his lap, and how his thighs changed shape when he sat.

"If mom were still around she would be doing the same thing." Matthew sternly inputted, before continuing with what he been saying before, and ignoring how Alfred hunched into himself. "There's a hard-boiled egg, an apple, and a granola bar I think."

Alfred couldn't help but to question Matthew. "Are you about to start another health kick? When you used to pack me lunches it would be Chef Boyardee and Nutty Bars."

Embarrassed, Matthew laughed. "Well, Francis and I have been talking lately, about food stuff, and we agreed that it would be better to try and incorporate more fresh foods into all of our diets."

"That is totally lame, ew." Alfred muttered, pouting, before asking another question. "And you've been talking about me to Francis?"

Turning into the school parking lot, Matthew nodded. "He's pretty much family, of course I do. And he was worried, I know you've been stressed lately, but he noticed that you've lost a little weight recently. He just wanted to check in, but he didn't want to scare you and ask directly.

Alfred's scrunched his eyebrows together. "I still don't like calling him family, knowing that the two of you fuck. It's really weird."

Matthew sighed, and as he pulled into his parking spot he stopped the car, resting his head on the steering wheel. "Sometimes I get the feeling that you only listen to parts of what I say, and you just block the rest of it out."

Just as Alfred opened his mouth to respond, the bell rang, making them both realize that they had five minutes to get to their classes. Alfred, all the way across the school, had World History, and Matthew was supposed to give a lesson on basic, blind contour drawings in the art building.

Turning off the car, Matthew quickly exited, grabbing his bag and his lunch before running to the other side and opening Alfred's door. "Thanks." Alfred said under his breath, backpack still hung over his shoulders and lunchbox dangling from his left arm. He hopped out of his seat and began to run, giving a quick wave before shouting, "Bye Mattie!"

Meanwhile, Matthew was only a two minute walk from the art building. He closed his brother's door that had been left ajar and began the quick walk to his class, who would likely tease him for arriving after all of the students. Again.

* * *

Alfred managed to make it to his class just in time, slipping his backpack and lunchbox onto his desk and plopping into his chair just as the late bell rang. His sudden appearance seemed to get Arthur's attention, who seemed confused by Alfred's flustered appearance, and how he had rushed into the class. Then he noticed the bandages along his hands, and the strip sticking out of his shirt collar.

"Hey Alfred, what happened?" He questioned, concern managing to leak into his voice.

Alfred looked over at Arthur, shrugging. "Oh, we were just running a little late."

Arthur snorted. "No shit Sherlock, you almost got a tardy. I was asking what happened to your hands."

Looking down at the bandages, Alfred bit his lip. "Well, this morning I went to get coffee, and Francis literally popped out of nowhere and freaked me out. I, uh, spilled the coffee on myself and it was actually really hot, like, steaming, and it got on my hands and my chest and sort of burned me a little. I'm totally okay though, it hurt a little, but not much."

Only when he was done with his rambling did Alfred realize the seething look that Arthur had on his face. "That bloody idiot, he doesn't ever think, does he? I'll have to have a talk with him, what class is he teaching right now?" Arthur went to stand from his desk, but Alfred held a hand up to get his attention and stop him.

"Oh trust me, Mattie was pissed. Made him stay back to clean up the mess, and I'm pretty sure that he has to pick up some flowers or something. So I don't think that he'll be here for first period anyways."

Arthur sat back in his seat and shook his head, still seeming angry but managing to chuckle. "You're older brother really is something." Alfred began to lower his hand back to his desk, but Arthur gently took it, looking at the bandages with a hint of a frown. "You sure you're okay though?"

Alfred nodded his head. "Of course I am! It takes a lot to hurt me!" Arthur accepted this answer, but it still made him wonder about the times where Alfred would say that _nothing_ could ever hurt him. "But uh, it would be really cool if you could take notes for me today, because using my hands is still kinda difficult right now."

Nodding, Arthur snapped out of his thoughts, getting out a second piece of paper. "Sure, I can do that. And if you need to see the nurse let me know and I'll talk to Ms. Callice so that I can take you."

"I can wait until lunch to see Tino." Alfred reassured Arthur, who had begun jotting down what Ms. Callice, their World History teacher, was putting up on the whiteboard.

"That reminds me, I wanted to ask if you were okay with me having lunch with you today? I mean, if you're not that's okay too, I can always sit with Kiku, I would just really enjoy spending the time with you." Arthur threw the question out in a rush, as if it took a lot of courage for him to ask.

Pondering for a few moments, Alfred paused before giving a response. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he had lunch with Arthur at school, just because he usually avoided eating in front of others, and because Arthur was quick to accept it. And though it wasn't the best reason to accept the offer, Alfred might be able to dump some of his food onto Arthur. "Yeah, sure."

"Oh, really?" Arthur seemed surprised, and as Alfred watched the other take notes, he saw a smile grow on the other's face. "That's… That's splendid."

Alfred couldn't help but smile too, because he might be able to get rid of at least half of his lunch.


	4. Chapter 4

After a final at school today I realized that my schedule was so fucked up that I was actually not going to have any work to do for the remainder of the day. I walked around, filled out some paperwork, and wrote this chapter on my phone. I tried to make sure the formatting was all good and I'm really sorry if there are problems.

I know what you may be thinking. Two updates in ONE day? OUTRAGEOUS. I did contemplate waiting to post this so I didn't seem desperate to get it on, kind of like the idea of waiting a few days after a date to text the other person back. Then I remembered how much of an absolute dick move that is and decided to spoil you all with this angst-ridden update.

Reminder: I LOOOOOOVE it when you guys give me feedback on my story, whether in the form of a review or a private message. Seriously, I want to talk to you all. Yes you. Specifically the one reading this at this exact moment in time.

HERE YOU GO.

* * *

Alfred stared at the lunch brought for him, feeling somber, shocked, and truly scared.

Yes, Matthew packed a salad, with crisp romaine lettuce, firm baby tomatoes, and thin slices of low-fat mozzarella. The vinaigrette was in a separate package and could easily be left alone, to the side, where it could mind it's own business, thank you very much. And yes, there was a granola bar, with bits of nuts, dried fruits, and a chocolate coating - the latter of which likely being the only thing that would persuade one of his classmates to take it.

But Matthew didn't mention the croutons and diced meat that was mixed into the salad.

So, sitting in the quiet, peaceful, nurse's room, with the nurse at his desk and Arthur by his side, Alfred began to panic.

The meat - high in sodium and fats - was enough to put the salad over a reasonable amount of calories. the, unnecessary, chewy, slimy pieces of what seemed to be cured pepperoni, or 140 additional calories were not meant to ruin his day, yet they managed.

And this was not even including the croutons. Pieces of bread, dipped in oil and fried, a mixture of carbohydrates and chains of even more fatty acids. Bready, little squares that might as well be packaged and marketed as pills to cause bloat and weight gain. Maybe another 60 calories, with the amount that was given, but you can never get a guaranteed estimate. What food manufacturers add into their foods these days that makes it so goddamn addictive and obsessive Alfred will never know.

Besides, if he wanted to, he couldn't. Matthew did the absolutely worst, most despicable thing, that scared Alfred more than both the cured meats and the croutons.

Matthew took off the nutrition label.

And at first Alfred did not believe that he had, checking the lunchbox once, and then again, to see if it had maybe slid off the container, or maybe got stuck to the inside. Instead he found a note, blue pen scribbled sloppily onto a napkin, in a familiar, flowery handwriting.

"Enjoy all of your lunch. - Francis"

Alfred felt betrayed. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to march over to his brother's classroom and demand an answer to this cruel and unusual punishment.

And out of all the things that Alfred wanted to do, he definitely did not want to eat this lunch.

"Alfred, honey, lunch is meant to be eaten, not stared at." The nurse, Mr. Väinämöinen (though Alfred knew him on a first-name basis and regularly called him Tino) spoke sweetly, not looking up from his computer screen.

Alfred raised his head and realized that Arthur was watching him, and had not yet opened his own bag. Laughing awkwardly, Alfred's mouth twitched, and he grabbed the apple and Diet Coke from his lunchbox.

"Just not really hungry." He muttered as he twisted the cap off of the soda, listening to the fizzing noises it made, and watching the bubbles formed from carbonation rising and falling.

Tino looked up from his keyboard but continued to type as he spoke. "Alfred, I regret to inform you that I was not born yesterday, and that I'm not as stupid as you apparently think of me to be. Matthew already came and talked to me to inform you that you didn't eat breakfast this morning, it's important that you eat your lunch."

Arthur's eyes widened and he watched the two, surprised by the revelation. His gaze focused on Alfred, who made it a point to look anywhere else.

"Well it's not a big deal, I mean it's not important." Alfred shrugged, fiddling with the stem of the apple and twisting it between two of his fingers.

Tino stopped typing, turning to face Alfred, expression void of emotion. "Alfred, come on, look at me." Alfred stopped fidgeting and looked up reluctantly. "You and I made a deal, remember? You can eat in here with me at lunch, but only if you _eat_. Is that all that you have for lunch?"

"I..." Alfred began to speak, but a heavy feeling formed in his chest, and he paused. He screwed the top back onto his drink and set it back into his lunchbox.

Arthur broke into the conversation, his voice almost a whisper. "If the problem is me I can leave, I didn't mean to cause any problems or upset."

Alfred wanted to tell him that no, he wasn't a problem. He wanted to beg Arthur to stay with him but he couldn't speak. He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe.

His mouth moved but his vocal chords were not working. Tino and Alfred continued to stare at each other, silently, while Arthur watched, not speaking his concerns.

And to his own horror, and the shock of the others in the room, Alfred's eyes began to fill with tears. Tino was frozen in his spot, and he watched as Alfred's glazed eyes began to leak.

Raising his bandaged hand to cover his mouth, Alfred looked down, wishing he still had bangs so he could at least pretend he was hiding himself, and that he wasn't the current center of attention. A hand met his shoulder, Arthur's attempt at reassurance, and Alfred let out a choked sob that he failed to stifle.

He could hear the clacking noises that Tino's shoes made as he quickly exited the room, and at the time, he didn't care. The door shut with a slam and as soon as it was closed all of Alfred's previous composure dissapeared.

His shoulders quivered as he cried, tears streaming down his face in rivers. Arthur pulled Alfred into a hug, wrapping him tightly in his arms, the hand previously resting on Alfred's shoulder sliding down to his back and tracing circles. "I'm sorry I upset you Alfred." Arthur whispered into Alfred's ear. "I shouldn't have asked, I should have waited until you were ready, and for you to ask about it."

Alfred shook his head fervently before letting it fall into the crook of Arthur's neck, trying to focus on the warmth it provided. He kept trying to speak but still choked. Trying to calm himself down, he knew that it wasn't working.

The door flew open and Alfred felt the muscles in Arthur's neck move as he looked up. "Shit, Al?" The familiar voice, despite the distress it showed, made Alfred want to sigh in relief. Yet it also made him angry.

Arthur's arms, which had been wrapped around him in a comforting hug, moved away, and Alfred panicked. He grabbed Arthur and pulled him back to him, burying his face in the other's chest and ignoring the pain that initially rippled through his injured hands. "Please don't go." He choked out in a quiet tone.

Tino and Matthew talked to each other in hushed tones, seeming to be arguing, but Alfred couldn't catch what they were saying. Arthur's arms tightened around Alfred again and he began to speak into his ear. "I won't leave Alfred, I promise I won't leave. Try and breathe, okay? Deep breaths."

Alfred nodded, clenching his eyes shut and focusing on taking slow, deep breaths, trying to ignore how his voice still shook. Arthur continued to breathe with Alfred, relieved when his breaths returned to a relatively normal pace and depth. The tears stopped as well, and Alfred sat, unmoving, against Arthur.

"Alfred, honey, Matthew went to sign you out for the day." Tino spoke sweetly. "And Arthur, I'll walk you to your next class and explain the situation to your teacher."

"Yes, thank you. Is it okay if I walk him to the front office? Just to make sure that he meets up with his brother." Arthur asked, desperate.

Tino immediatly answered, "Yes, yes, of course, but you would best be on your way."

"Alright, thank you sir." Alfred slowly detached himself from Arthur, still looking down, and stood up. He let himself be led out, treated like he was incompetent, or a child, and felt ashamed.

"I hope you feel better soon, Alfred." Tino smiled, and waved the two out.

Alfred was embarassed by his actions, and his reactions. But despite it all, his lunch remained almost completely untocuhed, on one of the cots in the nurse's room. Tino would find it there later, along with the apple that had fallen and bruised to the floor, and put it in the fridge, hopeful that Alfred would feel up to eating it on another day.

And when Tino got home that night he would cry in his husband Berwald's arms, because he didn't know what he could do to help, and if it was something that he said that made the teen so upset.


	5. Chapter 5

I love, love, love all of you so much! Thank you for the reviews you've left on my stories and the messages that you've sent me.

Today I went to the doctor and got some slightly bad news, but nothing I can't make it through, especially with the support I get from such amazing readers. And there was one person in particular who went out of their way to message me - you know who you are. Thank you.

To balance out the recent angst I wanted throw some USUK fluff in but sadly, I'm on a crunch for time. Still, I wanted to get something posted, since you are all so utterly fantastic. I hope to post it later tonight, no promises, but keep your fingers crossed and your laptops open! or your phones, if you read on your phones. Maybe tablets too? Hm.

Just another pesky reminder: reviews make me happy and keep me going through my day. Seriously, every review or message I get from a reader makes me smile unconditionally. I appreciate them very much, but if you don't want to review, I still hope you read and love my stories!

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

The walk from the school's main office to Matthew's car was an uncomfortably silent one. Matthew was leading the way, his body stiff and his steps rigid, while Alfred trailed behind. Any students looking out their classroom windows would more than likely assume that Alfred had done something to get himself into trouble, that Matthew was mad at him, and that Alfred was meant to be going through some sort of "walk of shame" through the school campus.

Alfred wondered if Matthew was really mad at him. His brother had probably been enjoying his packed lunch and the break from his hectic schedule, mind free of worry, when Tino had burst in. How did that conversation go between them? Did Matthew see the nurse, reading the expression on his face and automatically know that something was wrong with Alfred? Or maybe they did speak. Maybe, voices lowered as they sprinted through the hallways of the school, Tino was able to explain the situation. What would Tino have said? In all honesty, Alfred hoped that Tino had gotten the chance to explain what had happened to Matthew, because he did not feel up to doing it himself in the slightest.

Another wave of guilt washed over Alfred when he realized that Matthew's students were all left hanging for the last half of the day, either sent to the library to sit in a bored silence, or stuck with a last-minute substitute teacher who didn't understand even the basics of art, and would have no clue what to teach them.

No matter where he went or what he did, Alfred always managed to mess something up, didn't he?

And maybe he wouldn't feel so full of remorse if Matthew would stop walking with his shoulders hunched together, arms stiff by his side, radiating some sort of negative emotion. Alfred couldn't help but to assume that it was anger. Of course he had every right to be angry with Matthew, making his brother leave his job because of his own stupid actions.

Before, when he had unpacked the lunch, he was angry with Matthew, he was angry with Francis, and he was even getting annoyed with Tino. Now, however, he only felt sorry.

So dammit Matthew, stop looking so upset.

They reached the car, left unlocked in the teacher's parking, and Alfred quickly opened the door on the passenger side, slipping into the seat and closing the door behind him in one fluid motion. Yet Matthew stood outside of his door, unmoving. Alfred couldn't see his face because of his seat in the car, but he could still see how tense Matthew seemed. It was awfully disconcerting though when he finally opened his door and got into the car. Alfred got a clear view at his brother's tear-stained face.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Matthew stopped him, turning onto the side of his seat to face him. "Al, please. Please, please, please tell me what's going on. I love you so much and I just want to help, I just want you to let me help you. You have to let me in. I don't want to see you like I did before, when you were in the hospital, I can't handle that again. After losing mom and dad I thought that I was going to lose you too and please, Al, you're all that I have left. The doctor said you were going to die, but you didn't, and I was so happy. Remember? When you got out we had a party and everything was going so well. I just can't watch you do this to yourself, I love you so much. Please Al, tell me what's going on, let me help you, _please."_ Tears were still falling down Matthew's face as he pleaded with Alfred.

"I…" Alfred croaked out. "I'm not all that you have. You have Francis now, and you have friends."

"Don't you _dare_ try and dismiss something as important as your own life. That wasn't the point of what I was saying and you and I both know it. This is what I was trying to say earlier, you just try and dodge problems, if I confront you about something you find the smallest bit out of what I say and use it to change the subject. You can't do that anymore Al. You need to eat, you need to be happy, you need to live. And none of those are debatable or interchangeable."

Alfred swallowed. While he listened to Matthew's quiet sniffles he began to absorb all of what Matthew had just said. He never meant to avoid things like that, Alfred always thought of himself as a non-confrontational person, not somebody who avoided all confrontation. Yet, here they both were, with red, blotchy eyes, puffy cheeks, and enough regretful thoughts to last the next few months.

Taking a deep breath, Alfred began to speak hurriedly, barely breathing between his words. "I have been eating less lately, on purpose. I've been really stressed out and I didn't know how else to cope with the stress. Last night I got a call from my pediatrician and I have a check-up scheduled for next Friday. And, since I've been eating less anyways, I figured that I could just go back to restricting until then so that I could drop some more weight. I know it's stupid but I'm not too far off from having an underweight BMI and I just miss it so much Mattie, I can't tell you how much I miss being thin."

Hesitantly, Alfred continued. "And I hate feeling this way, I hate feeling like shit because of what I eat, or what I look like, or what I am, but I can't help it, and I'm sorry that I upset you so much."

Matthew nodded to himself, looking down at Alfred's bandaged hands, then his own. "I'm going to make a list of all my responses to what you just said. One, just because you're an emancipated minor doesn't mean you have complete freedom, you still live with me, and if you have appointments with doctors I would hope that you tell me, even if it isn't required by the law. Two, being close to an underweight BMI is not a good thing for you in particular. Three, **you are still thin.** I can't even emphasize that enough, you have a lot more muscle than fat, and no matter what your weight or your BMI are, you are thin. And four, if you go to the doctor and have lost enough weight to be classified as underweight that they won't just admit you to a hospital, they'll probably admit you to a mental health institution."

Alfred hadn't thought of that last one in particular. In fact, he sort of assumed that since he had gained the weight before they would just disregard his previous diagnosis. "You mean like a treatment center? Residential?"

Matthew shook his head. "No, they would have to run a shitload of tests first, and if there was the slightest thing wrong they would admit you to a psych ward in a hospital until your condition was stable enough to send you to a treatment center."

"But…" Alfred dreaded the answer to his question, but needed to know it regardless of his fear. "You wouldn't send me to a treatment center, right? You wouldn't do that to me."

"You know I have the money that mom and dad left us, and what we got from their life insurance. If it would help you, I would do it, even if I don't want to, and I know that you don't want to. Because Al, I'm not a doctor, and if you won't talk to me about these problems, maybe you would talk to them."

They both stared at each other, maintaining an almost harsh eye contact, a battle for dominance. Alfred tore his gaze away. "Mattie?"

Matthew looked forward, started the car, then he responded. "Yeah?"

Alfred looked down at his feet in the floorboard. "I love you too, you know that, right? I don't think I really ever tell you that enough."

The statement was so out of place that it made Matthew let out a sharp laugh. "If this is what it takes to make you tell me that you love me, maybe it's okay that you don't tell me all the time. A man's actions matter more than their words, Al. Even if you don't tell me that you love me I know you still do."

"And I want to start seeing a therapist again."

Matthew's eyebrows raised, but he didn't look over. Instead he pulled out of his parking spot and began their journey home. "Of course, Al. Just don't love them more than you love me."

They both laughed, and things didn't feel as bad as they did before.

Alfred never thought that talking about his thoughts would be such a painful, dreadful, relieving experience.

* * *

I love you all, I'll be back very soon!


	6. Chapter 6

Hello again everyone! I intended to have this chapter up around 8 P.M tonight in my timezone, which would have been almost five hours before now, but things seemed to be working against me. My phone was having some trouble and I've been fighting a seemingly endless battle with the document manager, something buggy has been going on and my documents started changing font sizes sporadically, or the document would display all of the involved coding.

Things haven't been going too well for me lately, but thanks to my lovely, new beta reader, I've had the motivation and determination to get something written for you all. I just found out not even ten minutes ago that I may have to go to the emergency room tomorrow, which is sucky, because I hate hospitals. And I'm still waiting on the results of the blood tests I've got done. I'm just afraid that I'll have a lot of deficiencies and have to see a nutritionist. Bleh.

Anyways, enough junk about me. I want to get the next chapter up ASAP (as in the next twelve hours or less) because I have a few big reveals planned for it that will shock, and hopefully please, you all! Not giving out any spoilers, but I hope that fluff will be present.

So go on and read this chapter! Feel free to send me a private message about anything, any questions or suggestions you have, whatever. I'll even give you an icebreaker - my favorite color is red, so if you want to, start the conversation with what you're favorite color is. Actually, that just might make everything even more awkward. Your call! And reviews are greatly appreciated, along with follows and favorites of course.

I love you all and hope that you enjoy!

* * *

The day that Alfred and Arthur met may not have been a particularly good one, but it was memorable none the less. The environment he faced when hospitalized was strange, unwelcoming, and overall, dreadful. Surprisingly, Alfred found himself missing school.

It wasn't that Alfred had many friends at school, no, he didn't have friends then. Instead he spent his class time with acquaintances who always insisted "we should hang out sometime, outside of school" when they never intended to follow through with the statement. They didn't have purpose or meaning in their words, and Alfred would wonder, from time to time, if they would care if he were to disappear.

Days in school were filled with mindless chatter with these classmates. Days out of school were spent at home, occasionally with his brother, though more often than not weekends and school breaks were times of solitude meant to be waited out in his bedroom. Alfred never really looked forward to the approaching weekends, but when the weekend was over, he wasn't looking forward to the approaching weekdays either. What would there have been for him to be excited about?

One day at school Alfred sat in his usual desk, watching his classmates talk about their big plans they had for the summer. They had reached that point in the school year where teachers didn't even bother to try and assign work, simply because they knew the students wouldn't bother to do it. Alfred, luckily, was able to get permission to go out to the track and walk.

Alfred was only on his second lap when he began to feel faint, and the third when he began to gasp for breath, clutching at his chest and feeling his heart's arrhythmic, harsh pounding in his chest. He blacked out.

Then he woke up in the hospital, a small room with enough curtains and beeping machines to almost make up for the lack of color and decoration. When he took the little detail the room had to offer him, Alfred noticed a battered up, heavily bandaged boy, seeming to be his age. And, shockingly enough, the boy was staring at him. "Oh, you're awake." He spoke, leaving Alfred to attempt and decipher the emotion in his words, or what the lack of it could mean on his opinions on the discovery. All he knew is that the boy had a British accent and a rather attractive face.

Alfred lay completely still, looking over at Arthur hazily. "For your information, my name isn't awake, it's Alfred."

A smirk took its place on Arthur's face and he turned his head, gazing at the blank wall, with a slight look of discomfort on his face. Maybe it was his injuries, of which he seemed to have many, or maybe it was the blindingly ordinary white of the wall he looked at that seemed to pain Alfred's mysterious roommate. Hell, it might have been Alfred's horribly dry joke, or a combination of these many factors.

The boy spoke again. "So you have a sense of humor, that's good. Apparently it's hard to find around here. Hold onto it."

Needless to say, Alfred was confused by the sudden angst. "You know, I'm sure that we could have a conversation without you acting like a forty year-old man who went through three divorces and has lost hope in trying for a fourth."

The boy laughed, but it was hoarse, and followed by a pained hiss. "Shit lad, don't make me laugh. I have some bruised ribs, or an injury of some similarity that I can't bother to remember, and it hurts."

Alfred decided to move on from the subject instead of trying to pry the boy for more information. "I'll try my hardest, but no promises here. What's your name, by the way? It's only fair that I know yours since you already know mine."

"Well, that is true, I suppose. My name's Arthur. And we might as well get to know each other, because I do believe that we'll be here for a while."

* * *

When Alfred and Matthew got back to their house, their tears were dried, and they were both in decent spirits. Matthew, however, almost crashed into the wall connected the garage and the house when Alfred reached over and tried to tickle him. A jab to the side, both swift and sharp was able to fend Alfred off, and Matthew was satisfied with the startled yelp that his counterstrike elicited. After all was said and done Matthew decided to park on the driveway.

Once they got into the house Alfred expected Matthew and him to go their separate ways. Yet, when Alfred began to walk to his room, Matthew followed. When he turned down the hall that led to his room and the bathroom Matthew was still walking behind him, casually. And when Alfred opened his bedroom door Matthew happily let himself in, falling flat onto the bed before sitting up and staring at Alfred.

"So, Al, where are you hiding the scale?"

Alfred froze. "I don't know what you're talking about, you took my scale away, remember?"

"Yes, I do remember that. But in the car you told me that you found your BMI, which means you know your weight, which means you took the scale." When Alfred didn't respond, Matthew sighed. "I'm not mad, Al, I promise. Right now you have two options. The first, you get the scale from where you're hiding it, give it to me, and we're done. The second, I go and check where I usually keep the scale, find it missing, and then bulldoze through your entire room until I find it. And as fun as the second may sound to you I would really rather not have to go through your things."

Biting his lip, Alfred stood his ground in front of the door, and his eyes quickly shot to his closet. He watched Matthew get up from the bed to walk over to the closet, rummaging through the pile of laundry and finding the scale in seconds. Matthew picked up the scale, tucking it between his arm and his side, and turned back to face Alfred. "I know it's hard, and I know you're struggling. There's no way for me to know how difficult this is for you. But you are strong, and you will do anything to achieve your goals. And I want to see your abilities go to something brilliant that you, me, and the rest of the world can be proud of. Don't use them to destroy yourself, Al. Use them to make something new."

When Matthew walked out Alfred realized he was beginning to tear up again. He sat in the same spot on his bed Matthew had just been in, and he wondered what everyone else saw in him that he didn't. Claiming he is funny, brave, talented, strong, or able in any way. When he tried to reflect on these words, these adjectives seemingly misused, it was like looking in a mirror, knowing that he was misinterpreting what the reflection showed, but unable to get what he thought he saw out of his head. Unable to see the truth because he had put a filter over himself, one that only he was seeing, and it was changing his perception on reality.

Life sometimes felt like a dream that he couldn't wake up from, but if all of this were just a dream, what would he wake up to face?


	7. Chapter 7

I've still been ill lately, working it all out, but again, with the help of my mighty beta reader, I bring you the next chapter! I intended to have this in a long time ago, I'm so sorry! Hopefully I will be updating again today or tomorrow to make up for my absence. Well, after I take some medicine for the really strong headache I'm sporting. Yesterday I went to TATINOF and it was FANTASTIC! The bright lights and strobe that were used are more than likely what left me with this headache but it was worth it, and if I had the choice, I would go again.

So, after being gone for a bit, I come back to realize that this story has over one thousand views, from three hundred and forty six visitors. WOW. I am amazed by the crowds I am getting from this. Sitting down and thinking, "almost three hundred and fifty people have gotten to read this particular thing I've written" fills me with an emotion I can't even begin to describe, other than some anxious sense of joy.

Also, if you're still reading this, I wanted to mention that I have another USUK fanfiction that Alfred has an eating disorder in, Artificial. It's a one shot. For now.

Go on now! Read!

* * *

Alfred was perched on the edge of his bed, legs crossed, with his dark blue laptop resting between his legs. He had multiple tabs open: articles for homework, a pirated copy of the Bee Movie, YouTube videos, and his Skype. Humming to himself, he scanned through an article on the future possibilities of self-driving cars and the possibilities they held in the future of society. Not the most entertaining subject, but his Engineering class didn't usually give the most entertaining homework.

He paused the music playing in the background so that he could focus more on the article. _"_ _Self-driving cars are not some futuristic auto technology; in fact there are already cars with self-driving features on the road. We define the self-driving car as any car with features that allow it to accelerate, brake, and steer a car's course with limited or no driver interaction."_ Groaning to himself, Alfred rubbed at his eyes, feeling like he had earned a break after his ten minutes of hard work and effort.

His computer began to play a melody that Alfred immediately recognized as his Skype ringtone, and his Skype page popped up on his screen, announcing that Arthur was trying to video chat with him. But when Alfred scrolled his mouse down to the accept button, he hesitated. He was more than certain that he had upset Arthur earlier at school. What if Arthur was mad at him, or ashamed, or even worse, disappointed?

Still, Alfred knew that hiding from Arthur was a stupid thing for him to do, and wouldn't work anyways. And if Arthur blamed himself for what had happened in the nurse's office that would just make both of them feel worse.

One click sealed his fate. "Hello?" Alfred tried not to show any negative emotions in his voice, but instead wound up sounding monotone. Maybe that was for the better.

Both of their pictures showed up on the screen, and when Arthur saw Alfred he smiled. "Ah, yes, hello Alfred." He laughed awkwardly and Alfred felt bad, because Arthur seemed so uncomfortable, and looked rather disheveled. "I, uh, just wanted to check in on you. See how you were doing." The idea of 'making sure that you aren't having another anxiety attack or wound up in the hospital' was easily interpreted, but not spoken aloud.

Alfred nodded, looking down at his keyboard. "Yeah, I'm doing great! The whole thing earlier was kinda stupid. Sorry I got you involved in that."

"No, it's okay, I really don't mind. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay. How are you feeling?"

They were both silent, a thick barrier clouding their minds and covering their mouths so that they could not speak. Alfred cut through with the sharpness of his laughter. "Alive? I guess."

Arthur nodded, looking to the side and snorting at the remark. "Come on, that's a trademarked Arthur Kirkland response. Don't make me take you to court." Shaking his head, Alfred smiled. "What is that, that thing on your face?"

Alfred furrowed his eyebrows together, looking at himself in the camera. "I don't see anything... What are you talking about?"

"Well that's because it's gone now, I think it was an expression of some sort. A smile, perhaps? You, smiling, it's a rare occurrence."

Blushing, Alfred's face began to light up, and he watched in horror over the camera as his face took on a shade of red. "Artie, stop, we're not even around anyone and you're embarrassing me."

"Not even around anyone? Al, you're so mean. I'm not invisible you know."

Both Alfred and Arthur jumped, neither having noticed Matthew's appearance at the doorway.

"When did you get here?" Alfred shrieked, holding onto his chest. "I think I might be having a stroke. Oh my god, Matt, I can smell something burning."

Matthew frowned. "I made dinner."

Alfred took his hand from his chest, raising an eyebrow. "Well, no offense, but I think you might have messed up along the way. Did you make pasta and forget to add water? Everyone does that at least once."

Over the line Arthur could be heard shouting, "You forget the waterone time and nobody lets you live it down!"

Sighing, Matthew crossed his arms over his chest. "Be downstairs in fifteen minutes Al, okay?"

"What did you make?" Alfred asked, put down when Matthew shook his head.

"No, not telling. You have to wait. Just know that I didn't burnthe food."

Matthew walked out of the room, grabbing the door handle dramatically, as if he were going to slam the door, only to pull it closed with a quiet _click._

Alfred stared at the door, where Matthew just had been, with an unreadable expression. He heard Arthur clear his throat and his attention went back to his computer screen, taking in the worry that had consumed Arthur. "Hey, why the long face?"

"I'm just worried about you. I mean, have you actually eaten something yet today?"

Grumpily, Alfred responded. "I'm about to."

Arthur groaned, "I didn't ask if you were about to, I asked if you already had. Are you having negative thoughts again? And have you been doing things other than this?"

Alfred glared at his keyboard. "No, I haven't been purging, or self-harming, or engaging in any... other "behaviors." I already had this talk with Mattie, can we just talk about something else? Please?"

"Well, I'm not Mattie, so I didn't get to talk about this with you yet, and it is something that needs to be discussed."

"You know, there are a lot of things that we need to discuss, that we never have actually talked about. You would never open up to me about your dad, no matter how many times I tried to get you to. Instead I would have to watch you walk around like a sleep-deprived zombie because of the nightmares you had. He beat you, I know he did, I've seen the scars. We shared a goddamn hospital room after you tried to commit suicide! But no, we never talk about that. And that is really fucked up Artie, because if you're going to make me discuss my personal shit, you might as well reciprocate, instead of being a hypocrite."

Not until Alfred looked up at Arthur did he realize that Arthur was on the verge of tears. His anger almost immediately dissipated, replaced with guilt. Before he could speak again, Arthur interrupted him, his voice trembling.

"Yeah, you're right, I have avoided talking about that before, and I probably shouldn't have. The time that I lived with my father is a very difficult topic for me to discuss. I... I'm sorry."

"Shit, I didn't mean to get so upset, you don't have to be sorry, and you don't have to talk about what happened with your dad." Alfred sighed and let his face fall into his hands.

Arthur bit at the inside of his mouth, gnawing on his cheek. "For a long time I was being hurt by someone else. And during some of that time I was hurting myself. But, after all that I've been through, I think watching someone I love hurt themselves is the most painful thing I've ever had to experience."

Alfred sighed, attempting to speak calmly and quietly. "Listen Artie, I know that you've been through a lot of shit, okay? But I've got a handle on this, I talked to Mattie, and I'm going to start seeing a therapist again. Will that help?"

Wiping at his eyes, Arthur nodded.

One long, deep breath helped to keep Alfred from bursting into tears for the second time that day. "I'm going to go downstairs and I'm going to have dinner. Why don't you go talk to Francis while I'm gone?"

Arthur sniffled. "I don't want to talk to him, he's a shit-arse prat and I hate him."

Happy to hear Arthur already acting like himself again, Alfred snorted. "Yeah, but he's your... what do you call him? 'Temporary, Unwelcomed, Begrudgingly Named, Legal Guardian'. I feel like that should be an acronym for something. You could come up with something so much better than TUBNLG."

"Just because he adopted me doesn't mean I have to like him."

"Hun, I know that you don't want to admit it, but I can tell that you don't hate Francis. You may not like him, but you definitely don't _hate_ him."

Arthur clicked his tongue defiantly. "Well I didn't ask him to adopt me."

"You didn't have to! He chose to."

Groaning, Arthur fell back onto his bed. "Fine. I'll go talk to him."

"Good! Now, I have to go downstairs, before Mattie decides that I've taken too long and castrates me."

Arthur remarked off-handedly, "Tell him that I would prefer you remain with all of your reproductive organs."

Alfred practically howled with laughter, slapping his knee. "You know what? I'll tell him you said that, for sure." He saw Arthur pull himself back up into a sitting position, a shade paler than usual, all but begging that Alfred not say a word, but he ignored it. "Love you Artie!" He smiled, hanging up the call.

Standing from his bed, Alfred stretched, looking down at the pajamas he was wearing and deeming them proper enough for dinner.

A ding came from his computer, and he checked, seeing Arthur had left him a message.

 _"I love you too, idiot."_

The message was warming, and it gave him the courage to begin his trek down the stairs, towards the mystery dinner he had been dreading.


	8. Chapter 8

Hey everybody! It's been a long while since I updated, with school wrapping up and the pressure of all my final exams I had to focus on my studies. There was also some personal issues going on in my family. I don't care to discuss them any further, because again, they're personal. Luckily I have a large support group of friends, and a fantastic beta reader. Just know that now I am safe. Also, now that summer has started, I will hopefully be able to update as often as I used to! A minimum of two updates, per multi-chapter story, a week is my goal, along with some one shots sprinkled in.

My school schedule for next year is also incredibly different, as I am switching schools, and will leave me with much more free time. I do plan on using this to my advantage and beginning to write my first book to submit to a publisher. Of course I will not give up my fan fictions, but hopefully I will be able to break into the industry sooner rather than later.

Anyways, I'm incredibly sorry for the hiatus received without warning. It was necessary for my physical and mental health, and now that I am safe and well I can continue to write and update. I've missed writing for this story, and of course, the chats I've had with a few of you that reviewed.

Enough about me, onto the next chapter! This one is rather short, but I have time saved for today to write and post another.

* * *

Rain showered from the sky, staining the sidewalks with darkened spots whenever the icy beads of water came in contact with the ground. Alfred and Matthew walked side-by-side in silence. Alfred donned a pair of raggedy jeans and a burgundy hoodie, could feel the frigid air seeping into his skin, leaving him on the verge of shivering. Matthew, however, dressed simply in a blue t-shirt and a pair of khaki pants (which Alfred affectionately nicknamed the "tacky khakis"). They felt no need to speak, taking in the view that the sunset cast through what little parts of the sky were not clouded and grayed. It was peaceful. It was serene. It was-

"FUCK!" Alfred shouted, tripping over a crack in the pavement and falling over the curb, landing in a puddle on the road.

It was something.

Matthew laughed, and Alfred glared at him, waiting to be helped up as his clothes quickly absorbed the water he sat in. Alfred knew that he wasn't going to receive anything of the sort when Matthew bent over, wheezing. He stood, murmuring explicits grumpily under his breath.

"A-Are you okay?" Matthew asked, between giggles that he failed to suppress.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Alfred huffed. Crossing his arms over his chest, they began to walk again. "You know this is all Francis' fault, right?"

Sighing, Matthew shook his head. "He was only trying to help."

Alfred punched the button at the crosswalk. "By taking your car? On a school day? In the morning? Right… before school?"

Shaking his head, Matthew shrugged. "Well, I think he was trying to help. Though I'm not quite sure what his methods may lead to."

"So you don't even know why he took your car, or where it is? You're just letting it happen?" He asked in disbelief.

"Not really," Matthew answered, "But I'll find out eventually."

They began to cross the street, and Alfred turned to face his brother. "You are dating the strangest man."

Matthew winked. "The strangest men are the kinkiest."

Alfred's face twisted in disgust, and he gagged. "Dude, no, I don't need to know these things. Seriously. I am one hundred percent certain that I could live my life twice without ever needing this information in order to continue living."

"What if you enter a game show and you make it to the final round? The prize is one hundred thousand, no, a million dollars. The crowd is amped, everyone is cheering you on, and the host asks, 'In thirty seconds or less, describe your older brother's sex life. Go!'. There. I just won you a million dollars, and I expect at least half."

Alfred gawked, "What game shows do you watch?"

Matthew answered matter-of-factly, "I do love a good game of Wheel of Fortune, not gonna lie."

The rain began to pick up and Alfred put the hood of his already-soaked jumper on. "Whatever, nerd. How long until we get to school? We've been walking forever."

"First of all, Wheel of Fortune is a great show, and is a fun and creative way to stimulate the mind. I'm gay and even I can acknowledge that Vanna White is a literal goddess. Secondly, drama queen, we've been walking for fifteen minutes, so we're halfway there. Since we left earlier than usual you may have some time before class starts though."

Alfred groaned and dug his hands into his jumper's front pocket. "I wouldn't be complaining if it weren't so cold outside."

Matthew, exasperated, threw his hands in the air. "I offered you hot chocolate! I offered you coffee! What else do you want me to do for you?"

"Well, since you asked, I have a list of requests. I would start by asking you to meet with the sun as soon as possible, and discussing raising the temperature to a toasty seventy-eight degrees, in Fahrenheit you Canadian shit."

Matthew snorted. "What else would you like, your majesty?"

"My next request would be that you soundproof your bedroom walls to the highest extent, to ensure that I don't have to listen in on whatever kinky shit you have going on."

Blushing, Matthew stuttered, but wasn't able to come out with a complete response. Alfred watched with a smug look on his face.

And as they continued their walk along the pavement, Matthew stuttered, Alfred laughed, and the rain, well, it rained. Begrudgingly, they would both begin to admit to enjoying these times they get to share with each other. When Alfred is able to come out of his shell and hold a long conversation. When Matthew is able to focus on the light in his brother's eyes and the wrinkles under them from smiling, instead of dark, bluish bags and distracting cheekbones. It's these times that they share together that make them both remember what it's like to be a family, no matter how small there's is, and no matter how broken it may be.

The duo slipped back into silence, and again, it was peaceful. Again, it was serene. No, things weren't perfect, and things weren't the best of what they could be. Yet they both found comfort in realizing, again, that it was something.


	9. Chapter 9

RELAPSE. This entire summer I've been fucking myself, and my health up. But I'm sick of treating myself like this and wasting my entire summer. In the last month I've lost about ten pounds, and my mom is very _not so happy_ with that. Not going to try to gain weight, but I'm going to try and get my shit together, stop binging and purging, and start eating decent-sized meals instead of just occasional snacks and ridiculous amounts of diet soda. I just turned sixteen and realized that I have now wasted a fourth of my life on my eating disorder. Nope! I'm done! I'm fucking done! Let it be known that tomorrow is my first day of actual, not half-assed, recovery. AH.

Anyways, enough about my personal life and on to the chapter, which may end up one of two ways. Either fluff or lots of tears and angst. I know it sounds crazy but I haven't really decided yet? Writer's problems, having too many possibilities and outcomes for a story and not being able to decide until the last moment. Ugh. I do promise some more actual (positive!) appearances from Francis in the very, very near future.

(Reviews are extremely appreciated, as long as follows and favorites, of course. When I read reviews I appreciate the feedback, but really, I just love hearing back from my readers! It really does make my day. Random messages as well, which I have had a few of from you lovely people, one of which became my beta reader. She is fantastic so please give her a pat on the back for my erratic schedule!)

* * *

"Why are you so wet?" Arthur immediately questioned at Alfred's arrival, his eyes following the trail of water behind him, a series of small puddles that had begun to form a small body of water down the halls.

Alfred sighed, pulling down his hood. After revealing the mop that was currently residing on his head he decided the best course of action would be to shake his head rapidly to splash water all over surrounding surfaces, including Arthur. Arthur squawked indignantly, but Alfred couldn't bring himself to laugh at it. Instead he just shrugged and focused intently on his shoes.

An eyebrow quirked, Arthur continued the one-sided conversation. "So you don't know why you're wet? The majority of the outdoor portion has a canopy, so even with the storm going, you shouldn't be soaked to the bone like you are. With how badly your shivering I'm beginning to question if you just got freed from a block of ice." Licking his lips, Alfred brought his arms up to hug himself, trying to get even the smallest bit of warmth. Arthur watched, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

"Francis took our car, we had to walk." After Alfred said this, voice almost emotionless, Arthur's eyebrows furrowed deeper.

"He did? I didn't see it in our driveway. Then again, he dropped me off early then left. What is that bastard up to?" Arthur seemed to be thinking out loud, fiddling with his fingers, and Alfred watched in muted amusement. "Did you… walk all the way here?"

Again, Alfred shrugged. "It wasn't that far. Besides, I could use the exercise."

Arthur's eyes shot back up, making a piercing eye contact with Alfred. "Even if you have trouble seeing it, you are still quite thin."

Alfred wanted to say something along the lines of 'it's not that I have trouble seeing it, I have trouble believing what I see.' but decided to simply shrug again.

Sighing, Arthur began to take off his jacket. "You're awfully fond of shrugging this morning. Having a bad day?" Alfred nodded, mustering up a lackluster smile, which only made Arthur frown. "You don't have to smile if you don't feel like smiling. If you're struggling with something I am always willing to talk to you about it, but that's one of our rules, remember? Don't pretend that you're happy when you're not. Life will throw enough bullshit at you to have to deal with people you trust dishing it out to you."

He quickly dropped the smile and returned to his blank expression. "Sorry, it's just one of those days. How have you been doing though? All we've been talking about is me for the past few days."

Arthur hesitated. "They may up the dose of my medication, which I'm not exactly excited about, because the side effects tend to hit me pretty hard. But Francis is all for it and apparently my insurance is willing to cover a higher dose. It's this confusing, weird double-standard surrounding orphans that implies the government gives them too much money, but at the same time, not enough? I don't really understand it."

Nodding, Alfred considered what Arthur had said. That could be seen as a good thing or a bad thing, depending on why his dosage was being raised, and how Arthur really would be able to cope with the side effects. He never truly understood why medication meant to help with panic attacks, nightmares, and suicidal thoughts could cause panic attacks, nightmares, and suicidal thoughts. Even temporarily. It just didn't seem like a good idea.

Before Alfred could figure out how to respond, the bell rang. Arthur handed his jacket to Alfred. "Here, go take off your jacket and put mine on. Wearing wet clothes is just going to make you more cold, and I'll be fine without mine. I'm sure Ms. Johnson won't mind you running a minute late." Alfred took a moment to eye Arthur's outfit, a tacky sweater vest and a pair of crisp khakis, and couldn't help but smile.

"Dude you look so nerdy it hurts. Like, after school today I need to go get a vision check because that argyle pattern may have permanently damaged the rods and cones in my eyes.:

Arthur scoffed, but muttered, "Better the rods in your eyes than another rod you have."

"Why do all the guys I know act like those creepy old men that stare at your ass as you walk by in gym locker rooms? No kinky shit in the halls, Artie." Alfred laughed and began to walk away.

Sputtering about manners and abstaining from vulgar language, public displays of affection, and inappropriate behavior, Arthur watched Alfred walk away,before he began to head to first period.

* * *

"Mathieu?"

Matthew looked up from the drawing he was working on and quickly closed his sketchbook, pushing his materials to the side of his desk. Francis walked into the class as if nothing had happened, perkiness and pride evident in his steps.

"Mathieu, I have a surprise for you." Smiling, Francis stopped in front of Matthew's workplace, ignoring the prying eyes of the students currently in the class, watching curiously from their own seats and stools scattered across the room.

Standing from his seat, Matthew looked Francis up and down. Then he looked behind him, at all of the students that seemed to be paying just as much, if not more attention to his conversation than he was himself. "Okay class, come on. Private conversation here. Focus on your assignments." A majority of the students looked away, or at least pretended to not be watching. Matthew sighed. "Yes, Francis? Does it have anything to do with you hijacking my car so that Alfred and I would have to walk to school in the middle of a storm? Or is it completely unrelated to that?"

Francis laughed awkwardly. "Actually, both? I took your car to get the air conditioning and heating fixed, since it was supposed to storm after school, but the storm came a little earlier than I expected it too. I probably should have given you both a ride, now that you mention it…"

Arms crossed and eyebrows raised, Matthew watched Francis stumble through his words, trying to explain himself. After waiting for a coherently formed sentence that never came, Matthew interrupted. "Francis, that was really nice of you, and I appreciate your intentions. But we have to have a talk when we don't have twenty-two high school students eavesdropping."

"Oui, oui, of course."

"Now get out of my classroom, because I may seem calm, but I am still very pissed off."

Francis nodded hurriedly, and began to go in for a kiss, before deciding against it. He wrapped Matthew up in a tight embrace before rushing out of the room, glancing behind him one last time before closing the door with a quiet 'click.'

Turning to his class, Matthew smiled brightly before asking, "Who here has Mr. Bonnefoy's class next period?" Two girls raised their hands. "I will give you each five points of extra credit if you put pins on his chair."

One of the girls, sitting in the front, spoke up. "But what's the point of that?"

"Well, how else are you supposed to let people know they're being a pain in the ass?"

* * *

Here he was again. Back in the infirmary, with not one, two, or even three sets of eyes watching him. Tino, sitting behind his desk with a somber expression, was trying to ignore the tension forming in the room. Matthew and Francis sat together on one cot, avoiding eye contact, while Alfred and Arthur sat on the cot adjacent, talking to each other in low voices.

After a few minutes of the continued awkward silence, Tino excused himself, leaving the three to sit alone in the nurse's office. Once they were alone, Matthew cleared his throat. Francis looked up, then at Matthew, before nodding.

"Alfred, I believe that I have to apologize for my actions the last few days. Burning your hand, the incident with the lunches, and this morning… I promise that I had good intentions. But I know that does not mean much, and that I hurt you regardless of what I meant to happen. If there is anything that I can do to help you, at any time, I would be happy to do so."

Alfred sighed. "I mean, the coffee wasn't really a big deal. The burn is healing pretty well too. And I'm not upset about this morning either, 'cuz you were just trying to do something nice. I've just been under a lot of stress lately and I know it sounds really lame but I'm not ready to deal with something like that yet. I still have a lot of foods that I can't have, and I'm not ready to cross those boundaries. And I know it's stupid but I get super anxious when I don't get to see the nutrition label. So with the food choices and the nutrition label gone, I don't know, it was just a really bad combination and it made a situation that I'm not able to handle."

"It may sound scary now, but it would probably be better for you if you did start to incorporate some of those foods into your diet, slowly, so that you have a more balanced way of eating." Arthur uttered. "You were talking about seeing a therapist again, but I'm really worried about you. Is that going to be enough?"

Matthew looked down before speaking. "I bumped up your appointment with your pediatrician Al, and she may recommend a treatment program, depending on how your evaluation goes." Alfred's gaze sharpened, his eyes widening, face displaying a mixture of fear and relief. "It's definitely not a guarantee. I don't want you to leave Al, I really don't. I just want you to be healthy and happy, and if that means you have to go away for a while, I'm willing to do that."

Alfred choked. "You're willing to, but did you ever ask me what I want to do? I don't want to leave. I don't want to go to a treatment center."

"Do you want even want recovery anymore, Al? Or do you want to die?" Matthew barked, his eyes being clouded by the forming tears.

There was another dreary silence. "I...I don't know Mattie."


	10. Chapter 10

Hello my cabbages! I'm going to call you all that now. Okay? Okay. I wrote this at one in the morning because I can't sleep, I have a doctor's appointment in a few hours that I'm pretty anxious about. Life is going well otherwise though, and honestly, this was a fun chapter to write. The next chapter will be fun as well! I've already started planning it out, and depending on how productive I feel after posting this, I may post it by the end of the day today.

My dog keeps farting on me and I may suffocate before I get to write anything though. Please, if I disappear, know that it was either his toxic fumes, or an evil cricket. Possibly both, because who knows, they may be in cahoots. Nothing is safe these days.

Not much to update on, except what I plan on putting at the bottom. A few things I want to mention about this chapter, not much, but worthwhile.

I hope you enjoy!

(Just a general reminder that all the people who have favorited and followed are a-ma-zing, and that reviews make me super-duper happy and I greatly appreciate them. Also feel free to PM me if you have suggestions or ideas for the story!)

* * *

A familiar feeling, the mixed emotions of relief and fear, began to stir in Alfred's mind as he returned to class, mixing with the stress that had built from the last few days. Arthur, sitting beside him, was focusing diligently on his schoolwork. Though every time he glanced at Alfred's desk he would catch the boy watching the clock. When a second would pass, the clock would tick, serving as an ongoing reminder that the day was ending. They both knew what was coming, and Arthur, busying himself and his mind to avoid thinking about it, couldn't help but worry anxiously about Alfred's inability to bring himself out of his thoughts.

It was Friday, the last day of the school week, and its end would immediately blossom into the weekend's beginning. Most students would await the weekend happily, ready for a break from their work, to sleep in, spend time with their friends, and procrastinate their homework until their bus ride back to school the next Monday. Alfred and Arthur did not enjoy the weekend nearly as much as their peers. It always brought memories back, from the better times, and from the worse.

Alfred thought of the spontaneous camping trips he used to have with his parents and brother, tents and fishing gear in tow. He could smell the burning wood, taste the crisp, burnt marshmallow sandwiched with melting chocolate and crumbly graham crackers. Yet he also remembered the containers of ice cream he would devour, the take-out bags from different fast food restaurants, dripping with oil and grease. He could smell the putrid vomit he would come up after, not as a punishment or a plea for help, but only as part of a routine, the relentless cycle he found himself trapped in. The taste was never as bad as the smell, and no matter how many air fresheners and cleaners he used, the smell would always linger.

Arthur thought of the time he used to spend with his mother before her death. They would go to the park to have picnics, to hog the swing set, and chase the squirrels. She always smelled like a specific flower, which, though Arthur desperately tried to replicate, he never found. The secret to the aroma never discovered. Yet he knew of the sharp contrast it had with his father's breath, reeking of alcohol, and hot on his face as he was pushed against the wall, yelled at, degraded, beaten. The taste of blood when his nose had been broken would never leave his memory. It was worse though, when the harsh scent of booze wasn't present, but his father would hurt him as if there was nothing missing. He wasn't sure what had pained him more, the bruises and breaks, or the fact that his father hated him so passionately and authentically that he would beat him when completely sober.

Shaking his head quickly, Arthur snapped himself out of his thoughts, returning to the papers in front of him and jotting down a set of words the teacher had written on the whiteboard. That's what schoolwork served as, a distraction. A way to escape their pasts, avoid their present lives, and pretend that they had brilliant plans for their futures. There was always something to do, something to focus on, read, write, learn about, that they usually didn't have time to daydream and get stuck in an area of their minds they would rather not travel to. But, with every tick of the obnoxiously loud clock, they were both reminded of the upcoming weekend.

Looking back at Alfred, Arthur realized the boy's glance was still on the clock, his eyes glazed over, as if he weren't really there. His hand rocketed into the air. "Mr. Stevens, I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, but I believe that Alfred and I were supposed to go talk with Mr. Bonnefoy."

Their teacher turned around, a bored expression on his face. "Okay Kirkland, you can both turn in your notes next class." Arthur nodded to him, beginning to put his stuff away in a hurried, but organized manner. Standing and shrugging his backpack on, he tapped Alfred's shoulder, watching as he blinked and looked up. No words were exchanged as Arthur gave him a knowing look, sharing an odd half-smile as Alfred stood, grabbing his things and letting Arthur lead him out of the classroom. Alfred usually copied Arthur's notes anyways, there was no purpose in setting materials out in front of him. The teacher knew about their little ruse, and honestly, didn't care enough to try and stop them.

When they were both out in the halls, Arthur took Alfred's hand, leading him down an empty stairwell. Though the current block was Francis's planning period, that's not where they were heading, and when Alfred realized where Arthur was bringing him, he laughed. "I thought the field was blocked off when they opened the gymnasium last year."

"Exactly." Arthur responded, giving Alfred a mischievous smile before opening the door, carefully stepping outside and looking in both directions before continuing towards a grassy field. The field was encased by a blockade of rusty bleachers, spaced a few feet apart from each other and leaving obvious gaps. Really, if the school didn't want students to sneak through, they could at least put up a fence, or do something to seem like they were trying.

Arthur gently released Alfred's hand before plopping on the ground, laying on his back and spreading his arms across the grass. Not too soon after, Alfred joined him, and much to Arthur's surprise (and enjoyment, not that he would mention, even if you asked very nicely), reached out to hold his hand again.

All and all, it was a nice day outside. The grass was dewy and the ground was moist, but the sun was shining and radiating a pleasant warmth, still being blocked by enough clouds remaining from the morning's storms that it wasn't blindingly bright. There was a light breeze that rustled Arthur's shaggy hair, moving his bangs down to tickle his nose, like a fairy, or mythical creature of sorts, was stopping to say hello, or asking to play.

"Hey, Arthur?" Once mentioned, he turned his head to glance at Alfred. "You look really nice out here. Well, I mean, you always look really nice. Did you ever notice that your eyes match the grass? You probably didn't, because you would have to use your eyes to see it, and that wouldn't really make much sense- mmf!" Alfred made a startled noise as Arthur rolled over on top of him, ending his rambling by bringing his lips down to meet Alfred's in a soft kiss.

After what seemed like a long time, yet also not long enough, Arthur broke away, taking a deep breath and smiling at Alfred. "I always thought your eyes were nice as well. They're blue, it matches the sky quite nicely." Alfred, feeling his face redden, couldn't help but smile, before taking his hand back and putting it in Arthur's hair, pulling the other back down on top of him.

Minutes passed and their embrace become more heated, Alfred biting at Arthur's lip, delighting in the quiet groan that it brought. Arthur began to kiss along Alfred's jaw line and down to his neck. Occasional nips lead to subdued moans, and a harsh bite in a sensitive spot made Alfred buck his hips. "Arthur, we…" Alfred paused to catch his breath. "We can't do this right here! I mean, we're still at school!" Arthur looked up, meeting Alfred's gaze, focusing in on his eyes. They were glazed over, not with confusion or disorient, but with raging hormones and not-so-clean thoughts and _desire_ and Arthur was just happy to see the change.

"Nobody comes out to this field anyways, besides." Arthur reached between them, rubbing his palm over Alfred's pants shamelessly. "You seem to be enjoying this." Alfred gasped, his hips bucking again into Arthur's hand, and his face darkened to an even deeper shade of red.

"I-I'm not saying that I don't enjoy this." Alfred swallowed, trying (and failing) to hold back the sounds that Arthur was provoking with those delicate movements of his hand that felt _fucking amazing and he really didn't want to stop but knew that they should_. "Just that this isn't the best time, or place."

Arthur nodded, and he stilled. He remained silent for a few, drawn-out seconds, before asking so innocently, so non-chalantly. "Want me to give you a blowjob under the bleachers?"

Alfred's eyes widened as he blurted out, "Fuck yes."

* * *

Leaning against a support beam, Alfred sighed. He had zipped his pants back up, rustled his hair, and generally tried to look presentable enough for people to not automatically assume he had been getting it on in the janitor's closet. Arthur rested his head on Alfred's lap, and Alfred watched him curiously.

"Hey Artie, I have a question."

Arthur, looking vaguely annoyed by the nickname, but willing to bypass the frustration at the moment, shrugged. "Yeah?"

Biting on his lip, Alfred muttered. "Whenever we do anything like… well, like _that_ , you don't let me do anything to you. I mean, I've seen you shirtless before, but you've never taken off your boxers, or your pants even." Alfred paused when he felt Arthur tense up. "I feel like it's something we should talk about."

"Well it isn't." Arthur sniffed, looking away.

Groaning, Alfred rolled his eyes. "Seriously? You constantly spew shit about having a well-built emotional relationship, embracing your flaws, not hiding things from each other, but when it applies to you you're just going to brush it off like it's nothing?"

Arthur furrowed his eyebrows and gave Alfred an angered look. "Yeah, I am, and now I'm going to ask you to kindly fuck off when you don't know what you're talking about."

Alfred scoffed. "Oh, of course. You're allowed to invade my privacy, bug me about what I eat, how much sleep I get, and how much I work out. Even when I'm doing okay, you're allowed to worry about me. But I show the smallest amount of concern about an ongoing issue and you act like I just fucking nuked you."

"Why do you need to know? I suppose this entire time you've just wanted to get into my pants? That's bloody fantastic, thank you for telling me now, instead of waiting until we've been in a serious, _long-term relationship_ to let me know! It's greatly appreciated!" Arthur stood, turning away from Alfred and walking to the gap between the bleachers.

Stuttering, Alfred stood, watching Arthur walk away. "You know that's not what I said, and it's definitely not what I meant." When Arthur was bending down to get out of the bleachers, Alfred raced towards him. "I just want to make you happy, okay? I want to show you the same love that you show me."

Arthur paused. "Fuck off, Jones. I never asked for it."

* * *

Being the child of a teacher at your school gives you unspoken privileges, and having two parents (or in this case, parental guardians) as teachers makes them the ultimate power couple. Most teachers don't give a shit about them skipping out on class, but the ones that regularly would just let it slide, because Matthew and Francis are both petty and will mess with you, your family, and your family's cow if you mess with Alfred or Arthur.

In those regards I can imagine them missing a lot of class, because of mental/physical health and a ton of shenanigans. This does include skipping class. I like to imagine that the two used to skip classes they didn't like so they could make out under the bleachers. Is that just me?

Also, that _ending_ with Arthur! All will be explained in the next chapter. If you have any idea of what it could be that got his panties in a twist, either leave it in a review or PM it to me, because I love hearing from you cabbage path kids.

Ta-ta!


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